Stay of Execution

80

Mario was gazing out of the window when the buzzer sounded. He liked the view across the water, even at night when all he could see were the lights of the docks and of Ocean Terminal beyond. When his Aunt Sophia had decided that she could live there no longer after his Uncle Beppe’s death, he had seized the chance to move into the family-owned penthouse, and had not regretted the decision.

As he picked up the handset that connected him to the main entrance he knew who would be waiting below. ‘Hi,’ said the quiet voice he knew so well, the one he had expected to hear.

‘Come on up.’ He pressed the button that opened the door, holding his finger on it till he heard her shout, ‘Okay!’ then walked out of the apartment to wait beside the lift.

‘Hiya,’ he greeted Maggie as she emerged, kissing her lightly on the cheek. He held the door open for her, and watched her as she stepped inside. She was dressed casually, as she had always dressed, yet there seemed to be something different about her, about her manner, about her bearing.

‘Are you not seeing Paula tonight?’ she asked him. There was no animosity in her tone; indeed, there had been none between them since they had split.

‘She’s at the theatre with her mum,’ he told her. ‘They’ve got tickets for the musical at the Playhouse; afterwards they’re going to Ferri’s for supper. They had to take a taxi, though. I warned Paulie off trying to drive there: with the papal mass in the cathedral just across Picardy Place, the traffic’ll be hellish.’

‘So you’re on your lonesome.’

‘Yup.’

‘Are you still upset about Colin Mawhinney?’

‘What do you think? I reckon Neil’s got a lead, though. He hasn’t said, but he was closeted with an American the other day, and then they went off to see the Big Man.’

‘How about you? Does the uniform still fit? Are those badges on your shoulders wearing you down yet?’

‘Not one bit.’

He walked over to the bar set in a corner of the big open living space. ‘You want a drink?’

‘What do you have open? No. Wait. Let me guess. Chianti?’ He laughed. ‘What else?’ He filled a glass for Maggie and topped up his own. ‘So what’s up?’ he asked, as he handed her the dark red wine. ‘Why the official visit?’

‘There’s something I have to tell you to your face,’ she answered. ‘I’ve moved in with Stevie.’

She watched his eyes as he digested what she had told him; they gave nothing away. ‘I see,’ he murmured. ‘You mean move in as in share a flat, or move in as in. .’

‘Why would I want a flat-share when I have a perfectly nice house? I’ve moved in with him, Mario, period.’

‘And it’s okay?’

She nodded. ‘It’s okay. In fact it’s better than that; it’s like I never thought it could be.’

‘Does he know? Have you told him? About your father, the abuse?’

‘No.’›

‘Will you?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Good. Where is he anyway?’

‘Downstairs, in the car. He’d have come up, but I preferred it this way.’

‘Well, bring him up, for fuck’s sake!’ exclaimed Mario. ‘I won’t eat the guy. Far from it; I owe him a drink.’

‘Why?’›

‘For taking you off my conscience, okay?’

‘I’ll drink to that too.’ She took out her cell phone and called Stevie on his. ‘Come on up,’ she said, when he answered. ‘The bear’s friendly.’ She pressed the button when the buzzer sounded a few seconds later, then opened the front door.

As he stepped into the room, Mario glared at him; and then a grin spread over his face and he reached out and shook his hand. ‘Good luck, mate,’ he said.

‘As in, he’ll need it?’ Maggie challenged, as she poured her partner a glass of Chianti.

‘Cheers,’ said Stevie. ‘Before you say anything, Mario, I promise I’ll look after her.’

‘I wasn’t going to, but it’s good to hear. How widely is this known?’

‘Mary Chambers and that’s it,’ Maggie replied.

‘And Bob Skinner,’ Stevie grunted.

‘How? God, what’s the point in asking!’

Stevie smiled. ‘It’s okay. I promised him I’d look after you too.’ He leaned against the bar and sipped from his glass. ‘Nice place this,’ he exclaimed, looking around. He wandered across the room to the glass-topped dining-table that stood in the opposite corner, strewn with papers and other items.

‘Mario,’ Maggie began, ‘about the house. .’

He held up a hand to cut her off. ‘It’s yours. We agreed that, and nothing’s changed.’

‘Do you mind if I rent it out?’

‘Mags, I don’t mind if you. .’

‘Excuse me!’ There was a strange urgency about Steele’s voice as he cut into their conversation. They turned together to see him staring at something on the table. ‘What is this?’ he murmured.

Mario walked over to join him, to see what had caught his eye, and held it. ‘Those are Colin Mawhinney’s personal things,’ he said. ‘I’m looking after them until his colleagues collect them. What you’re looking at is a photograph of his wife, Margery. She was killed in the World Trade Center.’

As he looked at Stevie, he saw that his face was chalk white. ‘Then either it’s her twin sister who’s just disappeared from the Scottish Farmers Bank,’ he whispered, ‘or else she’s risen from the ruins.’